Posts Tagged ‘Big Apple’

THE WOODWARD/MORFOOT CONUNDRUM ~ Changes to My Tap Dance

Monday, January 30th, 2012

My daughter recently checked out a book from the preschool called My Working Mom. It had a cartoon witch on the cover…I’m sure the two men who wrote this book had the absolute best intentions, but this leads to my point. The topic of working moms is a tap-dance recital in a minefield.

〜Tina Fey, author of Bossypants

 

Reality hit last week. I’m spreading myself too thin, and it’s not doing me any good. I should have come to this realization on my own, or at least before my husband Ross left for a two-week job in India, but no. It took a non-family member (a person for whom I have tremendous respect and who shall remain nameless) to enlighten me. It was hard for me to hear that some of my professional aspirations needed to be put on hold, but I took the news with dignity. I’m lying—I had a four-hour meltdown. I cried to my mother for an hour, skyped Ross in India for another two hours, and then watched The Real Housewives of Whatever County (those women never fail in making me feel better about myself). Only then did I start to make adjustments.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I will say that one major change involved Harry-care. Finding a good/convenient daycare isn’t a career goal, but childcare allows me the time I need to focus on my school/career objectives. Unlike Tina Fey, I don’t work eighty-hour weeks, but like Ms. Fey I live in the Big Apple, and finding close, reliable childcare is an issue. For the last six months, Ross and I have been hauling Harry from Brooklyn to Manhattan three days a week to bring him to a daycare that we like. Since we work from home, this involves four subway rides per day.  But last week (hooray!), I found a trustworthy daycare in our neighborhood that didn’t have the customary waiting list. Now, our daycare commute will be fifteen minutes instead of ninety. Why, you ask, don’t we hire a nanny? Well unlike Ms. Fey’s, my apartment isn’t exactly huge (this is an assumption—Tina’s never invited me over for dinner), and then there’s the whole working from home thing (enough said).

My tap dancing routine also demanded a few career-oriented alterations, which I begrudgingly made. With these changes in place, I’m beginning to feel like I might have a tighter grip on the ledge that I’m clinging to. And because of that, I’ve been able to enjoy Harry that much more. He likes to give me taps on the back after a good meal, shake his index finger at me when he’s upset, play hide and go seek at 7 a.m., and give me kisses before bedtime. In a way though, his constant evolution only makes things harder. Some days, all I want to do is hang out with him and forget about my work/school life altogether, but that’s not realistic (so thankfully, I can’t spend too much time obsessing about it).

Coping with all these changes while Ross is on another continent isn’t ideal, but luckily Tina Fey wrote Bossypants. It should be required reading. Moms, dads, and even childless human beings need to take a look. I just re-read the chapter titled “There’s a Drunk Midget in My House,” and started crying because I was laughing so hard. (Disclaimer: I don’t get out much. Harry goes to bed at 7 o’clock.)

Fingers crossed that my dance recital doesn’t go awry, but if I do run into some glitch along the way, I’ve got Harry and Bossypants to keep me amused.

Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.

THE WOODWARD/MORFOOT CONUNDRUM ~ The Frenzied Freelancer

Monday, January 16th, 2012

It was hard to know how much we were supposed to work. We were freelance writers; we had no office and no boss and no dependable means of support.

⁓Claire Dederer, author of Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses

 

Before Harry, the freelance lifestyle was pretty great. Ross and I traveled the world—Australia, India, Japan, Tanzania, Spain—but with Harry, freelancing has become tricky.  That’s why Claire Dederer’s quote from Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses hit a nerve.

Just to clarify—I’m not a yoga person. Sitting in silence and trying to get my body to contort into unnatural, uncomfortable shapes drives me crazy. Literally insane. I compile lists in my head—endless to-do lists. So instead of feeling Zen at the end of a yoga class, I feel like having a stiff drink. Luckily, the book isn’t really about yoga. It’s about tackling life after having a baby and still trying to be a good mother, daughter, friend, and wife. It might sound trite, but Dederer’s sense of humor makes it good.

Like Dederer, I’m a freelance writer. We both married men who also freelance for a living. (Ross isn’t a writer, he’s a filmmaker.) Like Dederer and her hubby, Ross and I don’t receive steady, month-to-month paychecks, which gets pretty scary at times, especially with Harry in the picture.  But unlike Dederer, we don’t live in Seattle.  Instead, we live in New York City, so it’s not hard to “know how much to work.” We need to work A LOT to keep living in the Big Apple.

Some months are better than others. For instance, this month is a good one because it’s film awards season, so I have a few stories lined up with entertainment magazines. It’s also proving to be a good month for Ross. He traveled to Utah in early January for work, and on Wednesday he will fly to India for two weeks to help film another project.

You would think I would feel a sense of relief, comfort, and reassurance knowing that money will not be an issue this month. Rent, 21 hours of weekly daycare, the occasional babysitter, and groceries will not be cause for concern.  But regrettably, NO—tranquility and I are not friends. Problem is, when Ross leaves for two weeks to work halfway around the world, I transform into a single mom. It’s not the first time it has happened—Ross had to work in Kenya and Libya for the entire month of September—and god willing, it will not be the last time Ross travels for work. But I have still not wrapped my head around being an only parent, who also has her own aspirations. While Ross is away, I rather ungracefully take on Daddy duties, including bath time, breakfast, and Daddy/Harry playtime. Needless to say, my work gets put on the back burner. There isn’t enough time in the day to be a mom, maintain a household, work, and be creative. I try. I really do. I have 21 hours to myself. If I’m not on deadline and I don’t have any papers to grade or classes to plan, I try to focus on what I really should be working on everyday until May—my thesis (I’ve already taken two extensions).  But when Ross is gone, the reality is that I simply try to make it through the day without having a nervous breakdown. Determining what the external, internal, and philosophical conflicts of my MFA thesis is unfortunately not on the top of my priority list. Instead I have Music Together, Gym Tots, and Rumble & Tumble classes on my mind.

But in all honestly, the extra responsibilities and limited work time aren’t the worst part of your spouse leaving when you have children. The worst part is not having him around to eat dinner with, or watch Friday Night Lights re-runs with, or even to wake up with in the middle of the night to try and figure out why the hell Harry is crying…again.

Despite this, I still like what Ross and I do for a living. It’s tough, but it’s who we are. And despite Joanne Woodward’s astute observation that working moms feel tremendous guilt, at this point, I can’t imagine giving up on my writing and losing that chunk of my identity.

 

Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School.  Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry.  Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.

BIG CITY SIREN ~ Welcome to My World

Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012


I decided to start writing Big City Siren after a homeless man peed on me on my way to a comedy show in the East Village. It was then that I realized that not only am I going to die alone, but that New York is a unique city, and you have to be a certain kind of woman to live here. Where else would you see ladies running in 4-inch heels to catch a train or hear girls telling cabbies to go fuck themselves? We New York women spend our daily commutes smushed against smelly armpits that don’t belong to us. We carry our strollers up 98 subway stairs. We endure cat calls and bedbugs. We wait tables, nanny, crunch numbers, sell our souls, and work in cubicles so we can be creative and change the world. We are Big City Sirens.

Each week, I will post tips on how to survive in the Big Apple. My column will teach you how to deal with everything from the dating scene to the pigeons. Men stop rolling your eyes—“Big City Siren” is not just for women. If you play your cards right, you could use this column to get laid. So whether you are a woman who needs a laugh after running into your ex with his hot new girlfriend, or a guy who uses the pick up line “I can feel an energy around you,” this blog can save your life.

 

Lindsey Gentile is an actor, writer, comedienne, and all-around gal-about-town.  Every Thursday, she reports from the front lines of single life in NYC. Check out her website HERE. Need more Big City Siren?  No problem.